


The Seeress

by DracoIgnis



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 10th Century, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Alternate Universe - Vikings, F/M, Fucking, Jonerys, Magic, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Sex, Smut, daenerys the seeress, jon the viking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 05:01:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21048725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoIgnis/pseuds/DracoIgnis
Summary: Daenerys the Seeress has arrived in town to predict the future of the viking men. But she only has eyes for viking warrior Jon who doesn't have much standing in society. What does she foresee? A Jonerys AU short story with original artwork.





	The Seeress

..

The Seeress did not arrive alone; as the doors to the feasting hall swung open, she was followed by nine girls clad in white. All were women of beauty with young, round faces, plump lips and rosy cheeks. They wore little in the way of ornamentation - simple silver brooches adorned their bosoms and plain rings hung from their earlobes. Despite walking with pride, it was apparent that their presence was as followers to the Seeress whose own face remained hidden in the shadows of her hood.

As they made their way between the long tables, the men turned on the benches to watch the girls. Jon too glanced over his shoulder, but it was the Seeress who demanded his attention. Dressed in blue and red robes, the wool finely spun, she appeared regal. Thick wolfskin fur hung around her shoulders, the tips of the hair stiff with frost, and on her hand he counted numerous fat, golden rings, one more detailed than the next. Their metal clanged against the bronze details of her staff which she used akin a walking stick as she slipped past the warrior men with ease.

It was as she passed him that Jon thought he caught her gaze somewhere in the dark shadows - two violet jewels that shimmered with curiosity. _ She is a V__ö__lva, _ Jon reminded himself as he shuddered in his tunic, _ I should not look at her for too long lest she reads my mind. _ Yet his gaze followed her all the way to the steps of the main table where she stopped.

Before the women arrived, the grand hall had been lively. The Jarl had invited all warriors to his feast to celebrate a summer of successful raids. As the pigs roasted upon the bonfire, mead was shared between the men and women, and laughter and tales and song thickened the air as everyone had their own story to tell.

Jon had also gotten involved; although seated the furthest away from the main table, he felt pride in having been invited. He too had been victorious in battle and earned the respect of his Jarl.

_ Although it is not enough, _ he’d reminded himself as he bowed before the man earlier that evening, thanking him for allowing him to fight for his glory. It had been a bitter smile that he offered the Jarl. _ If we only seek gold, our winters will be long. You cannot feast on metal. _

As the mead tickled his mind, he had to restrain himself from speaking in err, especially as the men around him talked with voices drowned in heat. They already longed for another battle, their coin by then spent on women and weapons.

But now, the place was silent. Jon could only hear the flickering of the flames as everyone’s eyes sought the Jarl. His face had paled, and by his side his wife sat still, her own cheeks rosy with surprise.

The Seeress rested both of her hands on the staff as she eyed the Jarl. “Greetings,” she spoke, her voice breaking the quiet. “I sense my visit is unexpected.”

The Jarl’s lips pulled into a tight smile. “I heard of a Völva travelling the nearby towns,” he replied, “yet I never thought you’d honour us with your presence.” He waited, expecting the Seeress to speak, but no more words were said. At the silence, he cleared his throat and glanced toward his wife at a loss.

His wife, sensing her man’s hesitation, stood up at once. She bowed her head toward the Seeress as she stepped aside, her hand gesturing at her seat. “Please, take my chair,” she said, “I shall feast with our men instead.”

“I should think so,” the Seeress spoke. She quickly ascended the steps, seating herself next to the shivering Jarl. She gave a nod and immediately her girls made themselves comfortable on the steps, their legs stretched out and their dark eyes glancing across the men of the hall.

_ They are challenging us to approach, _ Jon thought, _ but no one dares to confront a V__ö__lva. _

“What brings you to my humble hall?” the Jarl asked. He waved for the serving girl to fill a horn with mead, and he presented it to the Seeress personally.

She took it from his hand, never once turning to look at him, her hood still shadowing her face. “I have travelled between the worlds,” she spoke. “I have conferred with the Gods. They have led me here.” She held the horn to her lips as she drank.

At her words, the Jarl perked. “Have you seen greatness?” he asked. He licked his dry lips as he leaned closer to her. “Have you seen me claim lands of riches?”

The Seeress huffed, and she placed the horn back into the stand on the table. Her hold on her staff tightened. “You ask me things I cannot say lest I venture back between the worlds. But it shall be so - I came to hold a seance.”

“I will lend you my own private chambers,” the Jarl promised her. “You shall want for nothing.”

“I want this hall,” the Seeress spoke. “Empty it. My girls will help me set up. I will read the future of any and all I deem worthy.” She lowered her head and, once more, Jon’s spine tingled as he sensed her staring right at him. There was a smile in her voice as she spoke: “I will start with that one.” Her fingers pointed at him, and all the men in the hall turned to look at Jon.

Jon swallowed, finding himself getting warm beneath his tunic. He cleared his throat to speak, but before he could, the Jarl scoffed:

“Surely you’re mistaken. I demand you see me first.” As the Seeress laughed, he grew red. “I cannot allow you to undermine me.”

“You undermine yourself with your lack of respect,” the Seeress spoke, and she stood up. As both her hands closed tight around her staff, the Jarl leaned away from her, his eyes uncertain. “Do not forget - you stand before Daenerys the Völva. I listen to the Gods, but I also bring them news. Do not force me to tell them the tale of an unwelcoming Jarl who thought himself greater than Odin himself.” She lifted her staff, then hammered it to the ground, causing a loud bang to echo through the hall.

“Men!” she spoke, “I urge you to leave at once. I shall be conferring with the spirits, and they will not take kindly to undue interruptions.” She straightened up, her fingertips tapping down the bronze decorations as she smiled: “Tonight you shall either learn of glory, or of defeat.”

* * *

As Jon stood outside waiting, a light rain broke through the clouds. He wrapped his cloak tight around his frame as he shivered. He was trying to listen for any sounds behind the grand doors, but nothing reached his ears. He was wet, and he was cold, and he was alone - almost.

It was his brother Robb who approached him in the dark. His red, curly hair stuck wetly to his forehead and his eyes looked bewildered at Jon as he stopped before him. “Whatever have you done?” he asked.

Jon pushed the collar of his cloak further up his face, digging his chin into the thick fur. “Whatever could I have done?” he replied. “She picked me. Who am I to deny her?” Rain was running down his own black locks, causing the curls to flatten out. He rubbed the back of his hand to his forehead as he wiped off the raindrops.

“I agree with our Jarl,” Robb said. “She must have been mistaken.”

“How so?” Jon asked, trying to mask the annoyance in his voice.

“You’re just a farmer,” his brother reminded him.

Jon shrugged, causing water to fly off his shoulders. The rain seemed to be picking up. “May be,” he said, eyeing Robb as he narrowed his eyes. “But so are you.”

Robb’s cheeks darkened. “The Jarl sat me close to his table,” he reminded him, his voice full of pride. “I fought well in the battle, Jon. He saw it was so. If his wife carries no sons, then…” He let the idea hang unspoken in the air.

“I fought too,” Jon spoke. “I killed more men than you.”

“It does not matter,” Robb said, and he didn’t need to remind Jon why.

Jon buried his nose in the fur as he was silenced by his brother’s words. _ No, it does not matter, _ Jon thought, _ because I am just a son of a slave. _ Yet, as the doors opened and a serving girl peeked out, it was not Robb she was looking for, but Jon.

“Daenerys will see you now,” she said, her voice so quiet it was almost drowned out by the falling rain.

Jon glanced at his brother as he nodded. “Don’t be discouraged if she does not see you,” he said as he followed the girl across the threshold, “after all - _ it does not matter._” As the doors closed behind him, he did not turn to see Robb’s face - instead, his eyes sought the Seeress, and the haughty tone in his voice died out at once.

The hall had been emptied, not only of men but of furnishing too. Even the main table was gone, leaving behind just the throne of the Jarl and his wife. _ But that is not the wife’s chair, _ Jon thought as he eyed the seat of the Seeress.

Daenerys was now sitting in the Jarl’s throne, her pale hands holding onto the decorated armrests as she watched him from below her hood. Her staff was laid across her lap, the bronze glimmering in the flickering flames from the bonfire.

As Jon approached, he noted that her girls were watching him. They were all still seated on the steps before the Seeress feet, their bodies placed in relaxed positions although neither of them moved a muscle. They were like figures, he thought, perfectly carved out of bone and put on display. But despite their beauty, they were not for the pleasure of a man’s eyes. They belonged to their Seeress only, he realised, as their unfriendly eyes made him pause still a few feet from her.

“Do not fear my girls,” the Seeress Daenerys spoke. “They assist me.”

“Nine girls,” Jon spoke, “one for each realm.”

“You’re clever for a farmer.” She tapped her nails to the armrests, her tone of voice amused. “Can you also name them for me?”

Jon licked his lips as he tried to calm his heartbeat. It had quickened the moment he stepped inside. Perhaps it was out of fear, because he didn’t know what to expect. Perhaps it was out of excitement, for that same reason. “There is Niflheim,” he said, “the world of cold, the world of rivers. Then, Muspelheim, the place of flames and soot. Jotunheim, home to the giants, and Vanaheim, where the magical Vanir lives.” He swallowed, for a moment worried if he would forget his words and embarrass himself. But he continued: “Alfheim is where the light elves live, gods of fertility, whilst Svartalfheim gives place to dwarves, masters of craftsmanship. In Helfheim Hel rules the dishonourable dead.”

“You live in Midgard,” the Seeress spoke, her voice as sweet as mead. “Home of the humans.”

“Whilst you travel to the glorious realm of Asgard,” Jon finished, “the home of the Gods.”

“I am impressed,” the Seeress spoke, resting her hands upon her staff.

Jon scoffed: “These things are known by all children.”

“You wish to be challenged more?” She sounded amused, Jon thought. She slowly dragged her fingers down her staff, then back up, caressing it as she mused: “Who am I?”

“You’re a Seeress,” Jon spoke at once.

“What do I see?”

“Whatever you want,” he replied. “You’re a Völva. You can travel between all nine realms as you please. You can speak to the Gods, and the Gods will reply. You can use magic.” At this, he paused, taking in a deep breath as something in him stirred. _ You are dangerous, _ he thought, _ is that what you want me to admit? _

“What are my powers?” she pressed him on.

Jon swallowed once more. “You can cause storms, and you can end them. You can give a man love, and you can have him descend to Helfheim in his sleep.”

“Ah, yes, but those are not the powers you men seek from me,” the Seeress smiled. She stood up, grabbing her staff as she slowly descended the steps. As she walked closer to Jon, he felt his body stiffen - it was as if her very presence kept him in place. “You men want prophecies,” she spoke, “you want to hear what greatness the future holds for you. No one likes to wait - least at all men who wish to be the stuff of legends.”

She was so close that Jon could smell her. She smelled of mead, he noted, but also herbs and pine and soil. She smelled like a walk through the woods, as alluring as the warm sun on a chilly morning. “I am just a farmer,” Jon spoke, feeling shame wash over him as he realised he was repeating his brother’s words. “I am just the son of a slave. There are no stories about me, and I shall leave no legends behind to be told.”

“The son of a freed slave,” Daenerys reminded him, and she chuckled as he blinked at her in surprise. “I know all, I see all,” she said, “your mother was freed before she had you. The son of a freed slave is a free man. Why do you let this past burden you so?”

“Because,” Jon spoke, his voice slightly strained, “it is my present.”

Jon owned no lands. His mother had only made enough coin to free herself before giving birth, and with nothing to spare, she died of hunger in the winter. Had it not been for a local farmer Ned, Jon too would have succumbed to the cold. The man took him in, and he raised him alongside his own sons, teaching him to fight and speak and walk like a freeman.

_ But Catelyn never let me forget, _ Jon thought, remembering Ned’s wife, _ that I was no better than her servants. _ In fact, once Ned passed away, his place at the farm had been reduced to simple workmanship. He no longer even dined with the Starks, spending most nights outside amongst the animals.

Jon shook his head as the memories rushed in over him, and he spoke: “My brother was right. The _ Jarl _ was right. It’s a mistake that I am here.” He pulled his cloak tight around him again, readying himself for the rain. “Please excuse me. I shall send someone else.” But before he could back away, the Seeress grabbed at his fibula and dragged him by the shiny metal close to her as she spoke:

“I am not some serving girl that you can dismiss.” Her voice was low and husky, and her eyes twinkled in the shadows. “I am Daenerys the Völva, and you will heed my words.” With a swift movement, she pulled down her hood, and Jon gawked as he finally laid eyes on her face.

If the Seeress’ girls were beautiful, she was herself divine. Locks of her silver hair fell down past her cheeks whilst part of it was braided and pulled tightly back around her head. In between her hair, he could see golden beads shimmering like stars in the night. From her lobes, gilded earrings dangled in the shape of dragons, and black khol ran in a line from each of her ears to her eyes, starkly framing the violet in them.

As Jon gazed into her eyes, he found he could not look away.

“I am the most powerful Völva you will ever meet,” she whispered, her warm breath slippering across his lips. Jon instinctively licked his teeth. “Ignore me at your own peril.”

Jon was at a loss for words. A moment ago, he was ready to leave the hall and return to the farm in the rain, settling into his old life. But something in Daenerys’ face promised him _ more. _ He just wasn’t sure what that was.

As they stood watching each other, he slowly took in a shivering breath and nodded. “Okay,” he whispered, then cleared his throat to allow more power to his voice. “I will stay.”

“Of course you will,” the Seeress smirked. She let go of his cloak as she took a step backwards. Her hand reached for her own fibula, and she undid it to allow her cloak to fall to the floor. Beneath it, she wore the red woollen dress he saw a slipper of earlier that evening when she arrived. It was framed by a shorter blue overdress held up by a pair of golden brooches. In comparison to the ones her girls wore, these were highly decorative, with intricate patterns engraved on front as well as alongside the edges.

As he stared, she pressed her palm to one of the brooches, smiling as his gaze met hers. “I shall begin,” she spoke. At once, her lips fell, her face turning almost to a thrown as she reached into the purse on her leather belt. She undid the strings and pulled out fragments of a flower, turned to the flames, and then threw them onto the firewood.

At once, the air filled with a stench alike what he’d smelled on the battlefield. Jon grimaced and covered his nose with the fabric of his cloak as he narrowed his eyes. Still, the scent seemed to force itself through his clothes, and soon a tingling sensation spread from his nostrils through his body.

_ She is using magic, _ he thought as he watched her ascend the stairs again to seat herself on the throne. _ She knows how to get to me. _

Daenerys looked at Jon with serious eyes as she gestured for him to come closer. Jon complied - he stepped as close to the steps as he could go before stopping in front of the seated girls. They all looked up at him, their dark eyes causing him to shiver, but then, as their Seeress nodded, they grabbed at him at once, their hands latching onto his clothes as they forced him to the floor before them.

Jon, surprised at the sudden hands surrounding him, simply fell to his knees, staring up at Daenerys as she raised her staff. “Now,” she spoke, “you shall listen.”

It was then they started singing; nine beautiful voices filled the air in the room. The girls surrounded him, and their voices seemed to pierce through him from all sides. It was loud, louder than a thunderous storm, and Jon closed his eyes, feeling his very bones vibrating at the tones. In between the smells and the sounds, he felt himself descend to another level. He was going deeper and deeper into himself, the heat from the girls making him sweat in his clothes, and it was only once they suddenly left, the coolness clinging onto his face once more, that he was able to force his eyes open.

As he glanced toward Daenerys, he found her sitting perfectly still, her girls surrounding her, as she stared into the air. Something was different, he knew, but he wasn’t sure what until her lips parted and her monotone voice sounded:

“Jon, ask me what you seek.”

Jon looked around. He felt shadows creeping across the walls, glimmers of spirits which he could not pinpoint, and it made his heart race. He reached up to wipe the sweat off his forehead as he tried to calm himself. _ It is magic, _ he reminded himself, _ it is contained. The V__ö__lva knows how to control her powers. _ But there was also another voice inside of him, one filled with fear which spoke: _ But she will only control it if she so wishes. _

Jon bit his tongue as he glanced from the shadows to Daenerys, her face perfectly neutral, her eyes blank. _ She is between the worlds, _ he realised, _ she can see the truth from there. _ “Well,” he mumbled, struggling to find any words. He leaned down from his knees to rest his hands to the floor, his fingertips digging into the soft pelts thrown by the stairs, “I wish to know… I wish to know if I have a purpose.” It stung his heart to even say, but he realised it was the right question - what purpose did the son of a slave serve in the world?

The Seeress replied: “Your purpose is predetermined. It was yours before you were born.”

Jon’s fingers sunk deeper into the fur. “I don’t understand,” he admitted. “I am but a farmer. I have no lands. I have no wife. How could I have a purpose?”

“You shall never own lands,” the Seeress replied. “You shall never father children.”

At this, Jon felt his stomach twist. _ It is the stench making me sick, _ Jon thought, but he knew it was not so. The Seeress was foreseeing a bleak future in which he left no mark behind. How could he not feel at loss? “So my purpose is to perish in solitude?” Jon spoke, his voice not as strong as he had hoped. His fingers clenched into fists, and he hammered them to the floor as he swore at once: “By the _ Gods, why?_” He pressed his forehead to his hands, gritting his teeth together as he clenched his eyes shut. “Have I not suffered enough?”

“Your purpose is glory.”

At her words, Jon’s eyes slowly blinked open, and he glanced up at her. “Glory?” he spoke.

“Your purpose is salvation,” the Seeress continued. “You shall lead an army, but your goal will not be riches. Gold is for fickle men. Lands are what you seek. You shall not own them. You shall rule them.”

Jon raised himself to his knees once more as he listened, his cheeks glowering. “I shall rule?” he repeated in shock.

The trance that Daenerys was in seemed to be wearing off. Her girls shuffled closer, their hands taking a hold of her as they kept her from falling out of her seat.

“Please,” Jon spoke as he realised the seance was coming to an end. “Please, how? What will I do? What do I have to do?”

The Seeress didn’t speak. Her lips were shut tight akin her eyes as she was slowly awakened by her girls. Once she blinked, her violet eyes were no more dazed, but strong and awake. She looked down at Jon still knelt on the floor, and she took in a deep breath. “Girls,” she said, and the women rose at once, turning to Jon as if expecting a command to lead him away. “Girls,” she spoke again, “leave us at once.”

Even Jon could see a flicker of surprise in the eyes of the girls, but they all nodded and complied at once. They backed away from the throne toward the exit in the back, each of them disappearing out of sight before the door shut behind them.

For a moment, there was only silence. Daenerys’ hands closed around her staff, and she used it to prod herself up standing. Her legs shivered lightly, as if her body was still waking up from the seance, and she only slowly walked the steps to Jon.

By the time her hemline rested at his nose, she spoke: “It is you.”

Jon glanced up at her. His face was pale from her earlier words, but in his grey eyes a passion was also burning. _ I am meant to be someone, _ he realised. The scorn he had endured was drying off of him, just like the earlier rain. It could not get to him now. _ I have a purpose. I will succeed. _

“It is you,” she spoke again, glancing down at him with surprise. She raised her staff, pushing the end of it below his chin as she raised his face.

Jon, allowing her to move his head back, met her eyes. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“When I arrived, I sensed you were special,” she spoke. She cocked her head to the side, taking in the sight of him. “I have met many men with a purpose. I knew they would have glory before I spoke to them. But I never thought-...”

“What?” Jon pressed on, the staff digging into the soft of his neck.

Daenerys’ eyes narrowed. “I never thought you’d be the one, Jon Snow.”

Jon furrowed his brows in confusion. “The one to what?” he asked, but the Seeress didn’t reply.

She lowered her staff to his fibula, and at her prodding the clasp came undone. His cloak fell to the floor, spreading out around him, and she pushed her staff to his tunic, the hair of the wool clinging on to the bronze. “Take off your shirt,” she instructed.

Jon wasn’t sure he had heard her correctly. He glanced up the body of the Seeress, her frame clad too thickly in fabric for him to take it in, and he paused.

“Take it off,” she repeated.

This time, he didn’t hesitate - he grabbed at the bottom of his tunic as he pulled it off, throwing it aside. As she waited, he undid the strings of his undershirt too, slowly pulling it off under her watchful eyes.

By the bonfire, he was warm. The light of the flames flickered across his naked chest as he remained before her, kneeling, her staff hovering the floor between them. She licked her lips, her eyes roaming his scarred flesh. “You have been in many battles,” she said.

“I have,” Jon said, shortly touching one of his scars. They were mainly on his chest, old and darkened by time. “But it was the latest that earned the Jarl’s attention.”

“I know,” she said, a little smile on her lips. “I saw. You fought bravely, more so than others.”

_ It is easy to fight when you have nothing to lose, _ Jon thought. This alone made him shiver - now when he had heard the Seeress foretell a glorious future, would he fight with less furor? Would he be more hesitant? Would he become less of a man?

“It shall not be so,” she spoke as if reading his mind. Her staff dipped to his breeches, and she gently pushed against his groin. As blood started filling his cock, she smiled: “You cannot reach glory without sacrifice, Jon.”

“Is that why I won’t father any children?” he asked. His heart was in his throat as Daenerys’ staff gently rubbed to his groin, making his body come alive. As hopeless as he’d felt when he first entered the hall, as excited did he feel now. For the future. For her - the way she looked at him, licked her lips at him. The way in which her staff pushed up past his stomach, then prodded at his chest.

As she pushed forward, Jon fell backwards onto the skins on the floor, and she stood above him, hovering like a Goddess. She unhooked her brooches, flinging them to the floor as if they were they not prized jewelry, and she shrugged out of her blue overdress, the fabric falling onto him. “Do you know what gives a Völva her powers?” she asked. She hooked up her dress, just enough so that she could settle atop him, her buttocks pressing to his groin.

Jon took in a sharp breath. “Your staff?” he asked. As she chuckled, he reached up to take a hold of her waist. She felt small beneath the fluttering dress, he thought. But her legs were strong as they locked around him, and her staff felt cool to his skin as she pressed it sideways to his neck, holding him in place.

“All women harbour magic,” she said. “It is a gift from the Goddess Freya.” She moved atop him, causing her sex to rub against his breeches, and Jon gasped in air beneath her.

“Is that so?” he mumbled.

“She is a Völva herself,” Daenerys explained. As she applied pressure to the staff, Jon could feel his air being cut off bit by bit. She leaned down above him, her face hovering his as she stared into his eyes. “Tonight, she spoke to me, Jon. She spoke of you.”

Jon’s face was glowing red as he struggled with air. He felt his lungs burn, but he could not pull away from the Seeress. As she rode his clothed body, holding him in place, he started feeling his head spin. It was the mead from earlier, he knew, as well as the scent, both from the fire and from her. It descended upon him as if intent to drown him. He wanted nothing more but to let it.

Daenerys’ lips hovered his own, moving like a kiss as she spoke: “She spoke of your rise in Midgard. How you shall rule man. And she spoke of your ascend to Asgard, where you shall feast beside her in Folkvang.”

Jon grunted as the Seeress grinded down on him, causing his cock to throb. At his reaction, she chuckled to his lips:

“Doesn’t that excite you, Jon? That the Goddess is speaking of you?” She held him in place a moment longer before finally moving her staff aside, allowing him to breathe once more.

Jon gasped in the sweet, warm air, but he only had a moment to compose himself before her lips were upon his. She kissed him deeply, filling his mouth with the taste of her, and without thinking much about it, he wrapped his arms around her. In one moment, he was below, wriggling under her control, in the next, he threw her to the side, climbing atop her himself.

“It excites me more when _you_ speak of me,” Jon said, now the one to hover the Seeress’ surprised face. His cock was throbbing between his legs, more so when he reached down to run his hand up alongside the inside of her thigh. Her soft flesh shivered. As his fingertips got closer to her sex, he felt her wetten. “Why so shocked?” he asked, his fingers finally sliding across her damp undergarments. He pulled the thin fabric aside, allowing him to touch her cunt. “I thought you saw the past, the future, and all in between?”

“Sometimes men surprise me,” she said, her voice almost sounding sorry at the truth. She pushed her hands through his black locks, feeling the small, tight braids he’d got in there, before she caressed the back of his neck. She arched into his touch as his fingers rubbed against her wet lips, causing them to spread.

Jon’s lips trailed kisses down her neck, leaving wet marks on her pale skin. “Is this what you do?” he asked. “Travel from town to town, filling men with tales of glory before fucking them?”

“Only on special occasions,” she teased and pulled at a handful of his hair. She dragged his face back up to hers, kissing him once more as his fingers pushed inside of her. She was so wet that they easily slipped in, brushing against her sensitive inners. As she moaned and dropped her head back into the skins, Jon prodded another finger into her, stretching her open.

His breath slippered across her face as he spoke: “I feel your magic has worked on me. I walked in here hopeless, but you have given me passion.”

“I have given you more than that,” the Seeress chuckled warmly. She wriggled beneath him, her bosom rising to his chest, and he dipped his face down to kiss her hardened nipples through the fabric. Her fingertips stroked down his back, her nails pinching at his skin.

Jon reached down to free his cock from his breeches. It was hard and wet, and he dragged the precum down his member in preparation for her. Under her watchful eyes, he dragged her legs apart, and then, with a jerk of his hips, he pushed himself into her. It was just his cockhead that pressed between her lips, but she moaned all the same.

“Oh Jon,” she groaned, grabbing at his neck and back as he looked for something to hold on to. “Don’t you wish to know what Freya said?”

Jon shivered in pleasure as he slowly sunk his cock into the Seeress’ wet cunt. She closed tightly around him, her muscles massaging his member, and he gasped: “What did she say?” Light sweat trickled down his face. She was warm, and so was the fire burning by their side. As he pushed into her, his gaze shortly sought the flames, and he wondered if her magic was still spilling out from the herbs she threw in there. The tingling sensation he first felt had not left his body - he still felt awake, aware, _ alive. _

Daenerys rocked her body up into him to welcome his thrusts. At first, she did not speak, she simply gave herself away to the pleasure that flooded over her. With one hand still entangled in his black locks, the other sought the fur around them, clinging onto it as she was fucked to the ground. Her legs were wrapped around his waist. Her lips were shivering. “She said you shall lead with her into battle,” she whispered.

Jon grunted, almost too focused on her body to listen to her words. He grabbed a hold of her legs, his fingers digging into her pale skin as he pulled himself out a little only to force himself back into her. She moaned in pleasure at his move, so he continued, pressing her knees tightly together for more friction as he took her. “When do I travel?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

The Seeress laughed. Her silver hair was spilling out of her braids, cascading across the floor. The black around her eyes were dripping in the heat, causing new patterns to shape down her pink cheeks. “Oh Jon,” she spoke, “when you lead the battle in _ Ragnarok. _”

Ragnarok. The final battle between the Gods. Forces more powerful than the world of which they knew would play out and claim lives, even the existence of the Gods themselves. The mere mention made Jon pause in shock, his cock embedded deeply in her as he blinked in surprise. “Ragnarok?” he repeated in a whisper.

As he didn’t move, Daenerys groaned and took the chance herself to grab at his shoulders and flip them around once more. With her legs wrapped around him, she kept him inside as she pushed him down onto his back and rose, sitting across his groin as she rode him.

“Yes, Ragnarok,” she smiled, the word clearly not sending shivers of fear through her the way it did Jon. “She has often dreamt of the shape of you as you rode into battle. Your name will be legendary here in Midgard, that is true. But it shall be more so in Asgard. You shall be the bravest man to fight. Amongst the Gods and Goddesses, you shall earn respect unlike any you will be shown by man.” She bit her lower lip and groaned as she pushed herself tightly onto him, his cock stretching her out.

Jon gasped in pleasure and, coming out of his haze, reached around her as he pushed himself up to sit. His nose was by her clothed breasts as she rode him, his arms wrapped securely around her frame. “She has seen me?” he asked.

“Just the shape of you. I have searched, and searched for that image. A proud man with black, unruly locks,” her fingers stroked through his hair, “oh, there have been many men looking like you, but none fitted the image just right.”

“How do you know?” he asked, the taste of sweat on his lips as it dripped from his forehead. He was pulsating inside of her, getting close to coming. The harder she grinded on to him, the more blood seemed to fill his cock. She was putting him on edge.

“In my trance, the image finally turned, and I saw you.” Daenerys’ eyes shimmered with passion as she traced the shape of his face with her fingertips. “You. Riding an eight-legged horse. Leading the battle. Fighting for me.”

“Fighting for _ you?_” Jon’s lips parted in awe as it dawned on him; A beautiful Völva with powers beyond that of man. “You’re the Goddess,” he whispered.

Daenerys laughed as she rode him with more vigor. “I am,” she spoke, her eyes glimmering naughtily, “I am the Goddess herself. I have many names. Goddess of love. Goddess of fertility. Goddess of passion. Goddess of battle. But I am also just as you see me - a powerful Völva indeed.”

It was then Jon couldn’t hold back anymore - as her lips claimed his, he came inside of her, spilling his seed deep in her wet cunt.

Daenerys rocked down onto Jon’s cock until an orgasm rolled through her body, making her legs shiver and her hands cling onto his back. She dragged red marks across his skin as she came, gasping into his mouth.

As they pressed themselves close, they were sweaty and gasping for air, their bodies entangled in one another as if one. Jon’s nose dipped into the softness of her neck, and he tried to comprehend what he had learned:

He was meant for glory in Midgard, leading men to victory. And he was meant for glory in Asgard, leading the Gods to battle. And he was meant for the Goddess of Love herself, the most powerful Völva who currently had his cock embedded in her, her warm heart beating to his chest.

As Jon battled with his thoughts, Daenerys ran her fingers through his hair and pulled his head back. She eyed him, their gazes meeting, and she smiled: “It shall be as I said.” With that, she rose, his limp cock slipping out of her as she let her dress back down.

Jon stayed seated, watching her pick up her staff once more. “Is that it?” he asked confused. “You leave me with that?”

“Oh, I don’t leave you,” the Seeress said. She leaned onto her staff with one hand as she did a wave with the other. At once, her nine girls returned, swiftly picking up her brooches and dress to make her decent once more.

Jon blushed, aware that he was naked before their eyes, and he quickly tucked his cock away in his breeches and hurried to stand. He could hear Daenerys chuckle as he fought to put his undershirt on in haste.

“I shall be with you every step of the way, even if you don’t see me. Surely you pray to the Gods?” she asked innocently.

Jon swallowed, aware that he had not done much praying since Catelyn banished him to the stables. “Of course,” he mumbled, but he felt Daenerys’ eyes flicker with a glimmer of knowledge. _ I shall do so now, _ he thought, _ at every spare moment, my thoughts shall be with you. _ “If I pray, will you come?” he asked with hope.

The Seeress smiled. “If it so pleases me.” She was once again decent, her cloak closed around her, the wolfskin once more wrapped around her shoulders. As she pulled up the hood, she gave Jon a little nod. “Remember,” she said, watching Jon from the shadows of her hood as he pulled his tunic down over his shirt, “your purpose is predetermined, but you must lead it there. Tomorrow, leave the farm and go to the Jarl. Demand he lets you lead the raid next summer. Then you shall see.”

As she turned to walk to the doors, Jon said, “Please, don’t leave,” and he swiftly bent over to grab his cloak before following her.

But as he stood back up, the hall was empty. The nine girls were gone. The Völva had disappeared. Not even the scent of her lingered in the air. He turned on his feet confused, looking around the flickering flames of the hall. “Daenerys?” he spoke her name, but he heard no answer.

For a moment, he paused, but then he wrapped his cloak around himself, took in a deep breath, and prepared himself for the rain as he pushed the doors open.

Instead of rain, sunlight flooded into the hall. There were no more clouds filling the sky, just clear blue, and the ground seemed to have dried in the time he spent in the hall. _ How long did we talk? _ he wondered in shock.

It was then he noticed Robb. He was sitting leaned up against the side of the building, his eyes closed as he slept. His cloak was wrapped over him like a blanket, and Jon couldn’t help but to smile. He reached down, gently pushing at his shoulder, and Robb blinked his eyes open and yawned.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“It is morning,” Jon said, although not certain himself. He looked around the empty streets. _ Early morning, it seems. _ “Did you stay all night?”

“I think so?” Robb rose to his feet and blinked. “But… I am not sure why.”

“I guess you were waiting to hear what happened,” Jon said, his voice snooty. He was expecting Robb to press him for information, but instead his brother just glanced at him blankly.

“Why? What happened?” he asked, but it wasn’t in an inquisitive tone.

Jon furrowed his brows. “What do you mean? You speak of the Völva, right?”

Robb narrowed his eyes as he looked his brother up and down. “Völva?” he scoffed and hid another yawn behind his hand. “I am afraid all the work is dulling your brain, brother. The rumored Völva never visited our town. Trust me, I also hoped to speak to her. But it doesn’t matter,” he shrugged and smirked at Jon, “our future is already decided.”

Jon looked at Robb, and for a hot moment he was ready to speak - to tell him of what awaited him, both in life and in death. Of how he was meant for greater things. Of how he was not just some poor child. But then, he agreed, “It doesn’t matter,” and they walked side by side back toward the farm, Robb speaking of his hopes for the next raid whilst Jon’s thoughts lingered with the Goddess.

_ I shall pray, _ he thought, feeling his cock stir in his breeches, _ and I hope she shall listen. _

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to DragonandDirewolf for the lovely art! Yes it’s back to vikings. My love just cannot be quenched. Thanks for all your comments throughout the month - we are now halfway through!


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